chernaya vdova: The Black Widow
by Mockingfire
Summary: After an accident, Nat suffers amnesia and can't remember working SHIELD, the last thing she remembers is Clint being sent to kill her. (Set before AoU) Based on a Winter Soldier promt.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hi guys,_**

 ** _s_** ** _o I got the idea for this from a tumblr post I saw. What if like Bucky, Natasha forgot who she was, she doesn't remember working for SHIELD or the Avengers and she has no idea who Clint is expect for the vague memory of when he was sent to kill her. It's just something I wrote up quickly between exam revision so sorry it's not the highest standard. I've tried to keep as close to canon as possible (with MCU)._**

 ** _It's only going to be about 3 chapters long and the second part should be up soon so don't forget to follow if you want to read more (or leave your tumblr URL in the comments and I'll let you know when I post.)_**

 _ **Hope you enjoy it!**_

 _ **Amber xx**_

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 **The Black Widow: Chapter One**

She kept her eyes closed as she regained consciousness. Most people's first instinct would be to open them, to find out what was going on, to overlook their other senses. She wasn't most people. She had been trained to battle her instincts, until it was a reflex. In her line of work, if you let your body control you, you were as good as dead. You have to be alert, in control.

In those few moments of lucidity she scoped the situation with her other senses.

The ground beneath her was uneven, asphalt she guessed. She could hear traffic, lots of it, and sirens not far away. Voices shouted but they were distant, muffled. _American_ her mind placed the accents, but they were at least in the next street, she was alone. The faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, fused with smoke and her muscles tensed. That was when she registered the pain. The dull ache spreading across her shoulder, back and down to her ribs. All of this took a total of three seconds.

Slowly she opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, the sky above blocked almost completely by high rise apartments.

Sitting up she drew a sharp breath through her teeth as pain lanced across her chest, at least 3 broken ribs she guessed and her vision blurred at the movement of her head. Concussion and a possible fracture, she cursed.

What the hell had happened?

She couldn't remember.

Forcing herself to stand, she cringed in discomfort.

"Nat!" A voice shouted from behind, she spun, hand reaching for the gun at her belt, wincing at the movement. Aiming the weapon at the new arrival. A man was jogging towards her, he had a bow in his right hand a quiver of arrows on his back.

"Not another step" she warned, her head swimming but she stood firm. The man stopped, and in one swift motion he had an arrow knocked and aiming behind himself looking for a threat but finding none he turned back around slowly, lowering the bow, to find her still pointing the gun...at him.

"Nat, what are you doing?" He asked his tone concerned. "It's me, Clint."

He took another step closer. "Are you alright?"

"I said not another step!" Her finger twitched on the trigger.

"Whoa okay okay, I'm not moving." He raised his hands so she could see them. "What the hell's going on Natasha?"

"Who are you?" She asked him.

"What?" He looked at her flummoxed.

"Who. Are. You.?" She repeated slowly, her gaze fixed on him in a hard stare, despite the fact that vision kept intermittently blurring.

"Natasha, it's me..."

"And why do you keep calling me that?"

The man frowned in confusion. "?"

She said nothing.

"I'm Clint...Agent Clint Barton, you're Natasha Romanoff. I'm your friend..."

She gave a short humourless laugh. "Yeah right. I don't have friends and my name's not Natasha..."

"Natalia Alianova Romanoff." He said and she froze. "You go by Natasha now though, have done for nearly a decade."

"We work for S.H.I.E.L.D, we both do."

A sudden wave of nausea rolled over her followed by an excruciating pain in her skull...

Images flashed through her mind...the man...Barton. Standing over her, looking down, his voice echoed in her memory

 _"I'm Agent Barton from S.H.I.E.L.D. They sent me to kill you..."_

The words lingered, repeating over and over like a mantra

 _To kill you...kill you...kill you._

"Jesus Nat, are you alright? Your head...you need medical attention. Please..."

He moved towards her instinctively...she pulled the trigger.

"Shit." He gasped as he fell, clutching his shoulder,

The force of the gunshot made her stumble and her vision blurred she saw something fly towards her but she misjudged the distance and it struck her arm with a sharp sensation, a needle. He'd hit her with some sort of sedative she realised as her body fell forwards, suddenly limp, her eyelids growing heavy.

She heard Barton speak into a com , through gritted teeth.

"We need evac, I've been shot and Romanov's injured, she must have hit her head pretty hard she's confused. I had to tranq her."

The voice faded and as the darkness claimed her again she thought faintly

 _'I'm not confused. I know exactly who I am. I'm Natalia Romanova, the spider...Chernaya Vdova.._ _The black widow."_

The image of his face hovered in her thoughts, the expression of concern...it had seemed genuine but she knew better than to trust an expression and why would he be worried about someone he was ordered to kill, it didn't make sense...

There was something else as well, something nagging at her, it was what had made her aim to injure not kill. Something she couldn't quite remember...

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 _ **Thanks for reading, let me know if you want to read more :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took so long to get this up, I haven't had as much time to write as I'd hoped and this chapter ended up twice as long as I'd originally planned it to be.**

 **Thank you so much for all the reviews I've had and to those people who've liked/followed I really appreciate it.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know how you like it :) xx**

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When she woke again, she found herself in a very bare, very clean room. Lying on a thin, metal-framed bed, she would have said it was a hospital room if it weren't for the lack of noise; there were no nurses bustling about, no incessant bleeping of medical equipment. Only silence.

The pain in her head had subsided and sitting up, she found the world was no longer rotating. There was still a dull pain in her shoulder, but it was fainter now and her cracked ribs had been taped up. Someone had changed her too, she was now wearing a pair of thin black pants and a black camisole, and they'd stripped her of all her weapons; even removed the tiny dart she kept wound in her hair.

It seemed that didn't want her dead, most likely, they were keeping her alive for information.

Well, the jokes on them, she thought. She couldn't remember any information to tell them, even if they'd had a hope of breaking her; which of course, they didn't. Whoever 'they' were.

She decided that either way, she wasn't in any immediate danger, leaving her free to plan her escape.

Despite the apparent medical treatment, her memory was still impaired, which unnerved her to say the least. She had no recollection of why she was in The States, or what her mission was.

She pushed down the faint flutter of panic. Concentrating only on the present and immediate future.

First thing first, she needed to find out who her captors were and get out alive. Then, she could think about the job.

She rose to her feet, scanning the room as she did; a small rectangular 'cell', she thought, correcting her previous assessment. About 4 meters by 6 in size, the space was void of anything other than the cot and a small table, both of which were firmly bolted to the floor. On further inspection she found there was no way to free either, nor any bolts in the bed frame to use as weapons. She was going to have to do without, a disadvantage in her current physical state but she'd dealt with worse.

A thin plastic cup of clear liquid sat upon the tabletop. She assumed it was water, but didn't touch, despite the parched burning in her throat.

She wasn't as steady on her feet as she'd like, but at least her vision remained clear.

There was a large window stretching across one wall, the glass was at least two inches thick and no doubt bullet proof, so even I she'd had a firearm to hand, it would have been useless.

There was a small panel on the outside of the glass wall, she presumed that it opened a door but there was no visible method of exit or entrance from the inside. Running her fingers across the glass she felt for a ridge to indicate a door but found none.

Nat pushed against it to be certain, but to no avail. There was no way she was getting out of there on her own. She muttered a curse in Russian.

It was then, that she became aware of the chain around her neck. She hadn't noticed the necklace earlier but now, she deftly reached around with her good arm and unfastened the clasp.

She studied the necklace in her palm. An arrow.

She didn't remember ever owning that...where had it come from?

There were a few things she'd noticed that she couldn't explain, her auburn hair was shorter than she remembered it being and why had they tried to heal her? Surely injured she was more vulnerable?

Maybe that agent, Barton, had been telling the truth...she shook her head, dismissing the idea from her thoughts.

The image of Agent Barton flickered in her memory, with a bow and arrow...an arrow. She looked back at the necklace in her hand. That's what they were doing, she realised. They were trying to convince her that she could trust them. This was what they wanted, to confuse her, to lower her defences.

Then she (realised) that that was exactly how she was going to get out...

It wasn't long before he arrived, maybe he'd been watching her the whole time.

When he walked into view, she was perched on the edge of the mattress, attempting to look compliant. Agent Barton stopped outside the window.

Neither of them spoke for almost ten minutes, instead they simply watched each other from either side of the glass barrier.

"Agent Barton." She nodded, breaking the silence first.

"Clint." He told her, his voice sounding clearly through a speaker that she couldn't locate.

"Agent Barton" she repeated.

He'd obviously been hoping for a different response, something flashed across his features. Sadness? He quickly composed himself but she was sure she hadn't imagined it. Was it because of her lack of cooperation, or was it something more than that?

She chastised herself, reminding herself that they were the enemy.

"Glad to see you awake." He commented. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you here to kill me Agent Barton?" She asked coolly, ignoring his question, she wasn't one for small talk.

"No." He said studying her carefully, his expression remaining neutral.

"Then why am I in here?" She gestured to the room.

"For your own safety." He said simply. There was something genuine to his tone. He was a good actor, she'd give him that.

She shot him a look of scepticism.

"And ours." He added wryly

Well, she thought, whatever they wanted, they knew not underestimate her. They knew she was dangerous, which made her plan more viable.

She decided it was best to play up her ignorance, not to let them know how much or in this case, how little she knew. Keep them guessing.

"Ours?" she repeated, "Where am I?"

"A SHIELD facility." He told her,

Damn, she thought, that meant Barton was unlikely the only agent, that complicated things.

"I work for SHIELD, they sent me to kill you..." the words echoed in her memory once again, but she pushed them back.

"And you're not going to tell me where that is exactly?" She urged.

"No." He said bluntly.

"I...Know you?" She asked, the uncertainty to her tone, not entirely an act.

He nodded again. "Yes. We've known each other for almost twelve years now. We've been friends for only slightly less than that."

A straight forward answer. It seemed she wasn't the only one being cautious.

All the while his eyes searched her face for...something, though his own features remained void of expression.

Her mind raced, calculating. This wasn't going to work unless she broke through that stoic composure. Slowly, she stood and walked towards the glass, until there was barely a foot separating them.

"You tried to kill me." She accused him, meeting his gaze intently.

"Oh don't be over dramatic." He told her, a subtle glint of humour in his eyes.

"You shot me." She protested, though secretly pleased by his response.

Agent Barton raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, but you shot me first." He reminded her.

She stared at him for a moment then shrugged in resignation, "Fine."

He smirked, and the expression sent a wave of familiarity through her. Something nagged in her memory but she couldn't quite grasp it.

"You said I work for SHIELD?" she said quickly.

"Yes." He confirmed.

"Then why don't I remember any of this?" She asked, "What happened?"

He faltered slightly, fumbling to find the right words.

"You...we were on an assignment. Checking out an old Hydra base..." he paused, then as a second thought, added "Hydra are bad guys".

She let out a short laugh at that, which seemed to surprise him.

"What's funny?"

"You." She said, "you say it like it's that simple, that there's a distinct difference between 'good' and 'bad' l, but there's not. From where I'm sitting you don't look much like the good guys."

Barton opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off.

"Everyone thinks their actions are justified, every war has two sides, so why is it that the good guys always seem to win? Because that's how the winner chooses to be seen.

Good, bad, right, wrong...it's all just a matter of perspective. There are no bad guys or good guys, there's just people, whose status is defined by other people..."

She trailed off, and Barton said nothing.

"But please continue," she urged him after a moments silence.

He cleared his throat softly,

"Um...It was supposed to be a quick recon mission, the base was cleared out a couple months ago, we were just there to scout the area for anything that might have been missed before. But we hadn't accounted for any Hydra agents still being there. A couple stragglers maybe, but not that many."

Nat crossed back to sit on the cot, listening intently.

"There were 7 of them and they'd seen us coming. They were ready and we weren't. We took out 4 of them, and the other three ran, you went after two of them and I took the third. When I came back to find you, I ran into one of your guys and I knew something had happened. You wouldn't have let him get away. I knocked him out, then searched the whole building. I found the second of your guys on the third floor, unconscious by a broken window, you must have been pushed out. I saw you lying on the ground, not moving...God, I thought you were dead Nat..." He broke off, his voice catching slightly.

He coughed gently, clearing this throat. "Well, you know the rest, I ran out to you, you woke up and then you shot me." he finished briskly, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Sorry." She told him quietly. For shooting him, and for what she still had to do.

Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes for a moment.

She wasn't so sure anymore of...well anything. Barton seemed genuine, he really did believe what he was saying, but she knew better than to trust him. Just because he believed something didn't mean it was true.

She opened her eyes again suddenly, remembering something.

"You tried to kill me." She said, her tone thoughtful.

"Oh come on," a hint of annoyance coloured his voice. "It was a tranquilliser. Like I said, you were the one with the bullets."

"No, not then...before..." She frowned trying to remember, but the details remained vague. A flickered in her memory...

"Paris?..." She mused, unsure. She looked at him searchingly.

He looked concerned again.

"Paris? That was years ago."

"Was it?"

"The first time we met." He said. "I was supposed to kill you."

"Supposed to?"

"Well obviously I didn't." He smiled ever so slightly, "I made a different call."

The words stuck a chord, like she'd heard them before...

"You really don't remember?" He commented more to himself.

"There's a lot of things I don't seem to be able to remember right now." She said. "But, for what it's worth, I believe you."

She winced suddenly, her hand flying to her temple, his composure broke again and he reached towards the security panel without thinking.

That's when she knew for certain...

"Clint?" She asked suddenly, her voice quiet and confused. He looked round at her in surprise, at the sound of his name.

"Clint" she repeated a little louder, glancing at her surroundings. "What am I doing in here?"

Barton stared at her, a hopeful look when he asked "Natasha?"

"Of course." She told him. "Who the hell were you expecting, the president?"

He didn't look completely convinced.

She reached a hand to her neck searchingly, "my necklace?" she muttered, glancing round the room. When she spotted it on the table she let out a sigh of relief. "I thought maybe I'd dropped it back at the base..." She trailed off looking thoughtful, "what happened? One of the guys came up behind me, I couldn't stop myself. I remember falling and then nothing...tell me you got him?"

Clint nodded slowly, still watching her with suspicion. "We brought him in. They're holding him downstairs for questioning."

"Good." She reached out and grabbed the cup of water, taking a small sip.

"Don't move okay?" He told her.

She looked at him incredulously. "like I have anywhere to go" she said, gesturing at the cell walls.

"I'm serious Nat."

"Fine, I'll stay where I am."

"I'm coming in but I swear one sudden movement and I will taser your ass, you hear me?" he flashed the stun gun for effect.

"Loud and clear captain." she replied with a mock salute, then lifted the plastic cup to her lips once more.

He sighed heavily, conflicted. He glanced down the corridor and she wondered if he'd been sent to speak with her or of he'd come without permission.

Finally it seemed his heart won out and he typed a code into the panel by the door, then another.

Finally with a beep a panel revealed itself and the glass entrance slid open. Nat remained seated until he stepped through the entrance.

Once he was through the doorway, she sprang into action. The door wouldn't stay open forever, she had to move quickly.

She threw the glass of water at Barton, he deflected it with ease but it was enough to shift his attention for an instant. Before he could react she swung at him, striking his temple and knocking him off balance, she knocked the taser from his grasp with a well aimed kick. Catching the gun as it fell she tagged him in the side, stunning him instantly. He crumpled to the ground unconscious.

He wouldn't be out long, a few minutes if she was lucky, mere seconds if she wasn't.

As she stepped past his still form, she plucked a knife from his belt as she did.

Guilt washed over her. She wished she could have gotten them both out, but they...SHIELD... had him convinced that they were the good guys, they had him brainwashed and he wouldn't have come with her willingly. He was a liability.

He stirred slightly, she had another 30 seconds or so before he woke and raised the alarm.

"I'm sorry Clint." She murmured as she stepped out of the closing doorway, slipping through just before if slid shut. Leaving Barton inside trapped inside.

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 ** _So there you go, hope you enjoyed it! As always if you want to read more make sure to follow!_**


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